


Little scenes with Mikkel and Sigrun

by AceOfShipping



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Friendship, I Ship It, I Will Go Down With This Ship, My OTP, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:02:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4720334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceOfShipping/pseuds/AceOfShipping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of little scenes featuring Sigrun Eide and Mikkel Madsen.<br/>Just innocent little situations from their mission which do fit in with the canon timeline. No fluff, no smut. Just pure, adorable dancing-around-each-other, no-one-will-admit-crush situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Healing kiss

”Ow!” Sigrun Eide squirmed in her seat, trying to fight the urge to turn her head away from Mikkel, who sat before her on the bunk. Not that she could have turned away from him, even if she had wanted to, his right hand was grasping her chin, keeping the bright red scratches on her cheek turned towards him.  
”Sigrun, sit still.” He softly ordered, and she couldn’t help but feel compelled to obey. Nonetheless, she protested. “But it stings!” Mikkel sighed deeply at her defiant tone, his eyes closing for a moment as he took a deep breath. Then, he simply continued cleaning the red lines with a piece of sheep’s wool dipped in medicinal alcohol. “Well, you should’ve considered that when you decided to help that cat down from a pole.” He hadn’t meant for his response to be so sharp, but he couldn’t help his sarcasm. It was a quality most Danes possessed, and, more often than not, one they could not completely control.

Sigrun grumbled something under her breath, which Mikkel very well heard, but decided not to take to heart. “I will pretend I didn’t hear that.” He said, keeping his eyes on the scratches. They were quite deep, and now that he had cleaned the surface thoroughly, it had begun bleeding slightly again. He discarded the piece of wool he had been using, and picked up a small piece of bandage, one of the softer ones, gently wiping away the blood. His gaze softened noticeably as he did so, and the Norwegian saw it. She said nothing, only looked away, feeling a mix of awkward and uncomfortably warm. The air wasn’t particularly warm, though, was it? Could it be… him?

Mikkel noticed her silence, and for a moment he paused in the middle of reaching for a new strip of bandage to dress her injury. Sigrun wasn’t often silent, and she certainly never bore an expression anywhere close to soft, but this seemed to be an exception. With the slightest ghost of a half-smile, he continued dressing the scratches, trying and failing not to ruffle her hair. She did not utter a single sound, but if he was not mistaken, her breathing pattern quickened just slightly. Or was that his own? He couldn’t quite tell. At any rate, it was imperative that he kept to his task. Within mere minutes, spent in complete silence while both eyed the other with some hesitation, the bandage was finished. Mikkel would never admit it to himself, but he spent a little longer on doing the final knots that he usually would have. Did he want to elongate this quiet minute they had together? Perhaps. He had to admit as much to himself. Perhaps he did.

For a moment, he hesitated, his fingers hovering just above the finished bandage. Then, without warning, he placed one hand on her shoulder, pulled her a slight bit closer to himself, and placed a gentle kiss upon the bandages covering the scratches. Sigrun fought a brave struggle, but she couldn’t keep from blushing, and her eyes widened in both disbelief and a secret, guilty joy. For a glorious second, they stayed like this, but then Mikkel withdrew, and she turned to face him.  
“What was that?” She asked, her usually sharp tone replaced by an unprecedented gentleness.

Mikkel, having to think of something quickly, responded within mere moments. “A healing kiss. It helps speed up healing.” Now that was just a really, really tame lie. Was she going to believe it? Then again, Norway was a country with quite a lot of mages, and when one was surrounded by magic in daily life, maybe it wasn’t such a far-away thought. “Oh!” Sigrun looked at him with an interested, open expression on her face. Well, just seeing that was certainly worth that little lie. “I didn’t know Danes had such magic abilities.” She continued.

“They do, trust me.” He said, offering her the slightest smile, which she hesitantly returned. Acting on a hunch, he reached down in his pocket and pulled up one of his homemade cookies, offering it to her. She looked at it, then at him. Then back at it, then at him. And then, she took it with an almost awestruck expression. So far, he’d only shared his cookies with Lalli, when the scout had done a good job, so this was a compliment! Mikkel chuckled gently at her, then patted her shoulder and left. Sigrun’s eyes followed him out the door.  
And then, she muched on the cookie.

Oh yes, definitely a compliment.


	2. Sigrun learns to drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Another short Mikkel x Sigrun scene. Short summary: Mikkel finds a book on driving amongst the salvaged books from the first private library. Sigrun wants to learn. They find a small abandoned car form the old world and manage to get it started. A cute, and awkward, little driving lesson ensues.)

“Mikeeeeeeeel!” Sigrun’s loud call reached Mikkel’s ears a few moments before the woman herself burst through the door to the bunk room in the truck. He sighed deeply, keeping his eyes on the page he was skimming through in one of their newly salvaged books. When the redheaded Norwegian spotted the toe in his hands, she stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth falling open with disbelief. “Wow, you really weren’t kidding when you said you’d read.” She flopped down on the bunk uncomfortably close to him, their legs almost touching. He had to quickly move his book slightly to the side, or she would’ve knocked it out of his hands. That would’ve been a disaster. He shot a wordless glance at her, looking immensely tired.

Sigrun hesitated a moment when she saw that look, but then her face split in a broad smile. “Hey, as I said, to each their own, yes? If you wanna read, go ahead. I’m not judging.” She slapped his arm in a friendly gesture, trying to infect him with just a little of her excess energy. He huffed and looked away, but she caught sight of that little half-smile he sent her, and his slightly raised eyebrows, and a sense of victory arose within her. When he still didn’t reply after a few long minutes – or was it seconds, it felt like hours anyway – she leaned in over his arm to glance at the page. Sure, she couldn’t read, but some awesome person had decided to add pictures!

… That she didn’t entirely understand.

Mikkel couldn’t keep his eyes on the page when suddenly he had a Sigrun leaning hallway over him, her elbow suddenly digging into his thigh when she tried to rearrange herself. “Ow.” He said, his voice completely calm, in spite of the fact that Sigrun’s elbow was rather sharp. She looked at him with momentary confusion, then noticed where she’d placed her elbow and immediately moved it. Now, her hand was on his thigh. That, she also immediately noticed, and her face turned almost as red as her hair. “Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry!” She tried pushing herself back up into a sitting position at the same time as attempting to remove her hand from his thigh, which resulted in her falling on her stomach, lying across his legs. He merely rested his elbows on her back and continued reading. Sigrun was still for a moment, then she began squirming. “Mikkel, let me go.” She ordered sharply. He lifted his arms, while continuing to read, and she sat back up beside him.

“What’s in that book anyways?” She asked, sounding just sour enough to get his somewhat full attention. He smiled gently, closed the book and looked at her, taking in everything from her contrary pout to the curious expression in her eyes that showed how she was really feeling. There was a lot to look for and notice with Sigrun Eide before one could truly attempt to understand how she felt. “It’s an instruction on how to drive a car.” He replied, watching with well-hidden amusement as her brows furrowed, then raised. “How to… drive a car?” She snatched the book from him, quicker, unfortunately, than he could react, and he protested. “ For helvede, Sigrun, be careful! This is a relic of the old world!” Sigrun shot him a wide-eyed, surprised glance, unable to resist flashing a cheeky grin. She’d never heard Mikkel swear before, and it was actually kind of invigorating!

Sigrun shot a glance at the book, then turned it upside down, on the side, and back to its original placement. “This doesn’t teach me jack squat. I wanna learn how to drive a car!” She pouted again, looking at the book as though it was a disobedient recruit with whom she was most displeased. Mikkel looked at her, then at the book. He took it from her hands with a gentle grip, closing it carefully before he put it aside. Then he looked at her with such determination, she felt almost befuddled.  
“The book may not be able to speak to you, but I can.” With that, he grasped her by the arm and led her outside.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

“This is not safe.” Sigrun commented, although she was by no means accusing. On the contrary, she found it thrilling that the usually careful Dane was taking a risk. Well, at least he was careful when others were at stake, even if he seemed more than willing to perform self-sacrifice should it be necessary. Or, at least, Sigrun liked to think that he would. She certainly thought he seemed like a man who would.

“Of course not. But to have you break our only means of transport and living would be far worse.” Mikkel replied, stopping by an old wreck of a car that he’d noticed them driving past a few times. They weren’t that far from the base, but they were out of sight and hearing range, and closer to the outskirts of Kastrup. They’d passed through it enough times for him to be relatively sure that they were in no imminent peril.

“And you’re sure it’ll even start?” Sigrun asked, eyeing the rusting old pile of metal with some doubt. Mikkel shrugged. “No. But it is the best contender I’ve seen so far. It might work, it’s a Ford, judging by the logo.” He said. Okay, so most of the last part was nonsense to Sigrun - what was a Ford anyway? – but he looked sure. So, she decided to give it a try. “Okay then…” She mumbled, grasping what she knew to be the door handle and pulling…

The door came off. She stared at it for a moment, then Mikkel kicked it aside and leaned into the car, resting his upper body on the driver’s seat. Sigrun couldn’t see what he was doing, but a moment later he threw a plastic panel over his shoulder, and a few minutes after that, the engine started with what sounded mostly like a wet cough. It didn’t sound healthy, but the engine didn’t stop. Somehow, the car was still running, the gas was still good, after nearly 100 years. Well, who’d have thought?

“Where exactly did you learn that?” Sigrun asked.

“Well, military vehicles are remarkably similar in basic mainframe to old world civilian cars.” He replied vaguely.

“And where did you learn that?”

There was no reply.

Mikkel awkwardly climbed into the passenger’s seat, then shot a glance at Sigrun, clearly expecting her to get into the driver’s seat. Hesitating for just a moment, she did just that, careful not to push any pedals. Then, she looked expectantly at him.

“You’ve got three pedals before you, the one to the left is the clutch, the one in the middle is the brake, and the one to the right is the speeder.” He began, pointing at the three pedals as he mentioned them. Sigrun, being Sigrun, immediately stepped on the speeder, but nothing happened save an angry noise from the car. Mikkel sighed. “If you want to step on a pedal, you should step on the clutch.” He told her. She obeyed, and he grasped the parking brake and pushed it down, as he’d seen it done in the book. Then, he grasped her right hand without warning, placed it over the gear, and got the car to first.  
“Now, slowly release the clutch.”

She did. 

The car rumbled and stopped.

“Is this going to be a long lesson?” She asked.

“Yes. It is.”

An hour later, and she was slowly driving towards the base. Or, she thought it was slow, Mikkel looked a little pale, and he had fastened his seat belt, which Sigrun herself hadn’t bothered with. He also wasn’t speaking so much, their vocal interaction was limited to “Watch out!” and “Change gear.”. Not that Sigrun minded, he wasn’t the most talkative person she had ever met, but his silence was slightly unnerving.

“Hey, Mikkel?”

“Yes?”

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Sure?”

“Yes. Watch out for that rock.” Sigrun evaded said topographical feature, then spotted the base in the valley beneath the hill, the top of which she had just reached. There, she hit the brake rather violently, and stopped the car. She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow when she heard Mikkel exhale deeply, seemingly in relief. “What? My driving wasn’t that bad!”

“Sigrun, promise me you will never, ever try to drive the base vehicle.” There was a slight shakiness to Mikkel’s voice, which surprised her beyond words. That was something she had never, ever heard before.

“Uh, ok. Sure. I promise.”


	3. Of 2nd degree burns and gentle giants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Yet another Mikkel x Sigrun scene. This is set right after the first location they go to in Kastrup, and they’ve just gotten into the car after blowing it up. Mikkel shows another side of himself when he sees that Sigrun has a burn on her arm.)

It wasn’t until they were all well and safe inside the vehicle, Tuuri driving it quickly away from the collapsing building, that Mikkel noticed it. The burn. It was right there on Sigrun’s arm, showing through a singed hole through both her uniform and the black turtleneck she wore underneath. It wasn’t big, but it was beginning to swell and blister, marking it as a 2nd degree burn, that needed treatment. Judging by her careless and rather ecstatic expression, she hadn’t noticed it yet, and the out-of-sight-out-of-mind logic seemed to be applicable. Soon, however, the adrenaline rush would wear off, and by then, she was bound to be in considerable pain. He needed to act before that happened.

“Sigrun.” He said, interrupting her quite one-sided conversation with Emil, who had somewhat recovered from his vomiting incident only minutes earlier. She stopped talking and turned to look at him, her expression a mix of puzzled and annoyed at being interrupted. “Yeah, what is it?” She asked, tilting her head lightly as she eyed him with some confusion. Mikkel usually had a good sense of timing, why would he interrupt her now?

“Come over here and sit down for a moment.” He said. It wasn’t an order as such, it was just not a question. And if she said no, he’d simply wrap both arms around her waist, lift her up, carry her to the bunk and sit her down. She knew this, so she did it voluntarily. With a theatrical sigh and a roll of her eyes, she left Emil and sat down before Mikkel on the L-shaped bunk, mostly because it was in the middle of the tiny room, and it was closest to floor-level. “What’s up now? I’m fine, you know.” She said, sounding rather annoyed. She was annoyed, actually, she just wanted to get back to base and start finding out what the books were worth. Or, you know, have someone count them and do it for her. Besides, she hadn’t been hurt.

… Had she?

She might not have noticed. It was a thing she sometimes did, not noticing until a while after. It had happened a few times, once after she came home from troll-hunting, she’d found out that she had a broken arm, and another time she’d had a nasty gash down her back, but surely that was not the case now? After all, they’d hardly done any real fighting.

“Just sit still and take your uniform jacket off.” Mikkel told her, sitting down at her left side. She begrudgingly did what he said, but felt a sting when she was about to pull her left arm out of the sleeve. Mikkel noticed her wince, and his large fingers immediately grasped her sleeve and jacket, expertly, and surprisingly gently, helping her pull off the fabric. His hands were blocking the spot on her skin where the stinging came from, and she had this feeling that it was on purpose. Keeping his left hand in place over the burn, he fished out a scissor from his medic bag, and she felt just the slightest bit of heat rise to her cheeks. Oh dear, her mind was drifting now. That was so not appropriately done of her.

Mikkel, oblivious to the goings-ons in Sigrun’s mind, cutting her left sleeve in a straight line up to her shoulder, and then around her arm before he pulled the sleeve off without as much as touching the burn. Now that he got a good look at it, it was larger than he’d originally thought, but thankfully it did not exceed 2nd degree anywhere. Had she gotten herself a 3rd degree burn, they would’ve been in trouble. Still, it was not a light burn she’d gotten herself, and it needed to be treated. He needed water – he had that at hand – and soap, same story, and some sort of container… Oh, right.

“Emil!” The Swede, immediately reacting to Mikkel calling his name, appeared in the doorway.

“Get me the washtub and a bowl from the storage area. And then give me your canteen.” He ordered, not for a moment surprised when the Swede looked at him with absolute cluelessness. He sighed deeply, and was about to repeat himself very, very slowly and clearly, when Sigrun broke in.

“Emil, get the washtub, a bowl and your water. Snap.” Her tone was a little sharper than usual, but apart from that, she didn’t seem in pain or uncomfortable. The Swede disappeared for the doorway, and after a few moments returned, placed the three items next to Mikkel and wordlessly disappeared out of the room again. Still holding Sigrun’s arm with his left hand, Mikkel unscrewed the lid of his of canteen, filling the washtub with the cold water. He then let go of Sigrun, got out a piece of soap from his medical kit and carefully washed his hands, drying them unceremoniously in the sheet on the bunk. It would dry soon enough. He then poured the contents of Emil’s canteen into the bowl, placed it on his lap and dipped a piece of cloth, taken from his bag, in the cool water.

Sigrun looked up and found that he was looking her straight in the eyes. He held her gaze without blinking as he slowly and gently applied the cool, damp cloth to her burn. She hissed, and the pressure on her skin immediately lessened. Of course, he’d kept eye contact to watch for any signs of pain. Sigrun should’ve realized that. There was no other reason. At all.

They sat there for ten minutes, Mikkel dipping the cloth in the bowl ever so often to keep it cool, and Sigrun soon felt the pain dilute and turn milder, until it was hardly noticeable. Mikkel kept his eyes on the burn, his movements slow and ever so gentle, but Sigrun couldn’t keep her eyes off his face. Even though he was clearly concentrated, his muscles were completely relaxed, and there was only one line of worry right between his eyebrows. Her eyes were also drawn to the slow, deliberate movements of his hands, and she couldn’t help but find it extraordinary that this great big bear of a man could be so gentle almost constantly.

As she was thinking this, he looked up, for a moment captivated by her open, curious expression. As expected, Sigrun dealt very well with this kind of pain, whereas any of the others might almost have gone into a mild state of shock. He laid down the cloth in the bowl and placed it on the floor, where it couldn’t so easily topple over. As long as Tuuri didn’t hit any bumps or rocks, of course. He dug his left hand into his medical bag and drew out a small, round can, a bandage and a soft, non-stick fabric pad. He opened the can, revealing a white ointment, which smelled just the slightest bit sharp. Sigrun scrunched up her nose, but didn’t complain. She knew antibacterial ointment when she smelt it. It stung a little when he applied it, but his touch was so light she almost didn’t feel it. Her eyes were drawn to him again, but she averted them, and didn’t even look his way when he applied the bandage. For a few, long moments after Mikkel had finished treating her wound, and had packed and closed his medical bag, there was silence. And then…

“Sigrun.” His deep voice caused her to look back at him, and suddenly she found herself enveloped in two strong arms. He wasn’t as much as touching the bandaged burn, though, and she couldn’t help but rest her head on his broad chest, listening to his heat for just a moment. It was slow and steady.

“Yes?”

“Next time you go out there, take care.”

She looked up at him with a smug half-smile. “Why? Were you worried?”

“… Yes.”


	4. Mikkel, Sigrun and winter bathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a piece of fanart by laufeyknits on tumblr, in which the whole crew are taking a bath in a cold lake. Enjoy

Mikkel shivered and looked at the water hesitantly. He was ankle-deep in the small, clear lake, and he was already having some serious second thoughts about this whole idea. Granted, it was the most effective way to decontaminate everyone, and everyone’s clothing, at the same time. At high noon, with not a cloud in the sky, they were as safe as they could possibly be.

Still. It was cold. It was winter.

Slowly, and very, very hesitantly, Mikkel walked further into the lake, trying to fight the urge to let out a very undignified screech when suddenly the bottom became steep and he was standing in water to just above the hip. And that, gods help him, was when Sigrun decided to notice him. She’d already taken off her uniform jacket, which was laid out on the large rock close by, drying in the sun, and she was standing waist-deep in the cold water. “Come on, Mikkel!” She said, wading closer to him and, without warning, grasping the collar of his jacket and unzipping it. All this happened so quickly, he didn’t have a chance to react. Within a moment, her hands had reached his waist belt. Now that was a bit too far down. His hands joined hers and pushed them away, and he undid his belt himself, tossing it over on the rock with a well-aimed throw. His uniform jacket would have joined the belt a moment later, but Sigrun once again got there first, helping him remove it, looking at him expectantly. Seeing no reason to further postpone the suffering, he also stripped off his black turtleneck. The result was immediate, cold water splashing against the sensitive skin on his stomach, causing him to gasp and inhale deeply, his eyes shut tight for a moment.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself caught by Sigrun’s gaze. She was looking straight at him with what he could almost call a tempting expression, her eyes slightly narrowed and her lips curled upwards in a small, cocky smile. Mikkel found his breath hitching in his throat, knowing that in spite of the cold, he was most likely blushing just a little.

In fact, Sigrun rather thought he went as red as a tomato, or at least the pictures of tomatoes she’d seen. His eyes caught by her gaze, his cheeks flushed, all this was egging her onwards to bolder moves. She quickly glanced around to ensure that the rest of the crew were otherwise occupied. Tuuri had her back turned at them, Emil was by the rock, Lalli was spacing out and Reynr was busy with his hair. All clear, then. 

With his jacket still in her right hand, she moved her left hand to the bottom edge of her turtleneck, slowly pulling it upwards. She could see his eyes following her movements, his mouth falling the slightest bit open as he drew a deep, shaky breath. And then, she hit the point where her vision was blocked and she could not actually get the soaked shirt off because she was still holding his jacket. Okay, she had not thought this through. For a moment, she struggled, trying to pull the shirt over her head, failing miserably and giving up with a theatrical sigh. Warm hands gently ran along her sides, surprising her so much, she tensed until she realized that it was Mikkel. With gentle movements, he took his jacket from her hand and threw it onto the rock, then joined her searching hands in pulling the turtleneck over her head.

They didn’t notice the momentary silence around them, didn’t see how everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at them for a second, then picked up overtly enthusiastically where they’d left off, trying to find any excuse to get a little further away, turn their back, their side, generally giving Mikkel and Sigrun space.  
The Dane didn’t fail to notice this, and he took the chance that was given to him, wrapping his arms loosely around Sigrun’s waist and holding her tight, her bare shoulders pressing against his chest. She tensed for a brief moment, but soon relaxed in his warm embrace.

“We can’t stand like this forever, we’ll catch a cold.” Mikkel sounded genuinely worried, having felt her shiver slightly in his arms. She sighed and shrugged. “I’m Norwegian. I don’t get colds.”

“Pneumonia, then.”

“Then you’ll just have to nurse me back to health, right? I’d look forward to that.” Sigrun smirked at Mikkel’s heavy sigh.

“You’re impossible.” He said, but his arms were still holding her in a firm, warm embrace.


	5. Mornings aren't me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew had a cold night and an early awakening - and a tired Sigrun finds solace by using her favorite Dane as a pillow and a heater.

Mikkel knew that today could be a very difficult day. Not only had the fire in the oven gone out during the night, leaving the crew shivering and struggling to keep warm. That particular incident hadn’t bothered Mikkel too much, though, because Sigrun had simply rolled off her bunk and onto the floor, cuddling up to him. They’d ended up piling her blankets over his, thus sleeping under the same covers. That would’ve been survivable, he’d actually slept very well, and so it would seem had she, but the alarm had gone off early in the morning, and there’d been no sleeping after that, even though they’d given it an honest try. As a result, even the usually stoic and calm Dane was feeling just the slightest bit lethargic, and Sigrun seemed to be downright sleepwalking. Tuuri had tried striking up a conversation with the Norwegian, but the responses had either been nonexistent or composed of ‘m-hm’s and sleepy groans.

If he had been able to stop the team from going out today, he would have, but it was not a possibility. It had begun to snow, and as a Dane he knew deep in his bones that the weather soon wouldn’t allow them to leave their base for some time. Therefore, a very tired Sigrun soon headed in the direction of the passenger seats, Mikkel following right behind her looking completely calm as always. His eyes never left the redhead, though, and had she stumbled or otherwise been thrown off her balance, he would’ve caught her immediately. Of the others, only Tuuri, currently occupying the driver’s seat, seemed to be even remotely awake, Emil, Lalli and Reynir had managed to fall asleep on the bunks.

As Mikkel took his place furthest towards the window on the passenger’s side, Sigrun sat down with a heavy ‘thud’ and a deep sigh that almost seemed infectious. Tuuri attempted a smile, but the redhead was beyond reach of such gestures, and the little Finn almost immediately gave up and started the car. The engine hummed as the cat-tank began moving steadily forward. Mikkel sighed lightly, crossed his legs and leaned back in the sofa, closing his eyes for no reason in particular, save the fact that he didn’t have any reason not to. He knew he couldn’t get any sleep now that he was up, and so he didn’t see any reason to try.

It wasn’t long before something nudged his knee, and he opened one eye to find Sigrun halfway lying down, but looking up at him while wordlessly motioning for him to uncross his legs so that she could rest her head on them. Without really thinking about it, he obeyed and she laid down her head on his lap, turning to lie on the side with her face away from him. One of her hands came to rest on his knee, and soon he felt her breath steady and grow deep. Without really thinking about it, he gently began stroking her hair, careful not to move excessively to avoid waking her up. It was only good that she got some sleep now – she needed it.

Suddenly feeling watched, Mikkel opened one eye at found that Tuuri was shooting an occasional glance their way. When she found him looking back, she smiled awkwardly and fastened her eyes to the path (or lack thereof) before them. He shook his head gently at her evidently embarrassed expression and closed his eye with a blithe expression. This drive had better take as long as remotely possible.

It wasn’t until evening that he and Sigrun had a chance to relax, sitting around what made it out for a campfire while the others, excepting Lalli, were getting ready for bed. She was sharpening her long, deadly knife, and he was, somewhat less warrior-esque, staring absent-mindedly into the flames. Amazingly, he didn’t notice that the sharp, ear-wrenching sound of her drawing the whetstone over the blade had stopped, until she was suddenly leaning against him, head on his shoulder. They sat there for a few, long moments before he spoke.

“You should get some sleep. We’ve another long day tomorrow; our food storage is running low, and we need to stock up for the winter.” His voice was low and hushed, as though the deep orange of the horizon was urging him to be as quiet as the world seemed to be at this moment of breathless color before the bleak twilight. She sighed. “I know.” It was more a mumble than anything else, hesitantly admitted, and she paused before she spoke again. The hesitation was long enough to tell Mikkel that she was choosing her words very carefully. “I was thinking, is there a chance – I mean risk! – that the oven’s gonna go out again tonight?”

He shrugged, or did the closest thing he could to shrugging, what with her leaning her head on one of his shoulders. It wasn’t plausible, now that he’d been sure to add enough fresh wood and coal, but… It was too good an opportunity to pass up on. He thought he knew where she was going. “Perhaps. It is not entirely impossible.” She lifted her head to look at him, her slightly widened eyes meeting his calm gaze. His face was almost expressionless, but if her eyes didn’t deceive her, there was a hint of eagerness underlining that cryptic half-smile.

“In that case, just to be on the safe side, might I sleep on the floor with you tonight? Just, you know, so I get enough sleep, you know. No disturbances and such.” She was babbling a little bit, talking just a tad too fast, almost stumbling over her own words while at the same time trying not to seem over-eager. He though it was very endearing. When she had silenced, he sneaked one arm around her waist, holding her just a little closer. “If you insist. I won’t oppose my captain when she gives an order.” His words might have been a little cynical but, looking up at him, Sigrun knew that they really weren’t meant that way. She sent him a roguish smile, eyebrows just slightly raised in mild suggestion as to what she would’ve liked to do had they been alone. He did not visibly respond, but she though his eyes grew just a little wider. Could’ve been the fire, though.

When they finally went to bed, it was just a little too late. She’d be tired in the morning. Well, thought Sigrun just as Mikkel draped an arm over her, at least she wouldn’t be cold.


	6. Soothing the she-wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrun lets her annoyance about Lalli's little mistake in the latest chapter show, Mikkel tries to calm her down.

Sigrun leaned back in her seat with an annoyed huff, arms crossed and lips pointed in a childish pout. Mikkel shot her a brief glance, evidently slightly amused, but he didn’t try to calm her or otherwise get himself into the mess that was an irritated Sigrun. This time, though, he had this nagging feeling that he couldn’t avoid it. He was right.

“How come that scout didn’t do his damn job properly?” Sigrun asked sourly, and Mikkel knew that instant that he had to reply in some way, otherwise she would get embarrassed at speaking to thin air, and he would be in such bad standing as he had never been before. He sighed and looked at her with the most zen expression he could muster. “Once snow begins to fall in Denmark, the landscape changes rapidly. It is simply a different territory than-“

“It snows in Norway too! Not an excuse.” Sigrun cut him off with a flail of her arm, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Did she even know how amusingly adorable she looked when she pouted? Most likely not, or she would have stopped doing it. It was contrary to the intended effect, or so he thought at least. “Finland and Norway are radically different, and even more so Denmark. Besides, snow has fallen early. Sometimes it does not fall at all.” He gave a little shrug, trying to seem indifferent. His eyes kept darting back to her keen eyes, though. “No snow? That’s weird.” She made a face, a mix of a frown and disbelief. He shrugged again, but then decided to attempt diverting her thoughts to another subject.

“Not so weird, actually. Records show that there are countries down south where they never have snow at all. It is always warmer than it is up here in the north.” He was almost surprised to see her eyes widen in absolute shock. Honestly, didn’t the Norwegians teach their children anything? Then again, he knew the Danish educational system was quite unusual amongst its equivalents in the known world. “Wow.” Sigrun said, her thoughts wandering for a moment before her sullen expression returned. “Still. I don’t like being stuck here. We need to find another way quickly, otherwise we’ll be attacked for sure. Same thing if we go back.” She sounded more worried than annoyed now, but it was almost as bad, Mikkel decided. He preferred the carefree, confident Sigrun. This was like dealing with a cornered she-wolf, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to handle it.

“I know. We shall have to trust Lalli. He is, after all, good at what he does. Has he not proven that time and time again?” Trying to mask it as a confident and easy move, Mikkel hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder. He nearly withdrew it in shock when she placed her hand over his, and looked at him with such worry that his heart nearly broke. “He has, but still. Everyone makes mistakes, and this could be a fatal one.” For several long moments, Mikkel wasn’t sure what to say. Her gaze softened with disappointment, as though she had been expecting him to soothe her. And he wanted to, he really did, but how could he…

“We’ll be fine, Sigrun.” He said, and she immediately looked at him with a spark of hope in her eyes. “If all else fails, the tank is safe. We have Emil’s explosives and pyrotechnics, and we’re not going to run out of candles to burn. We can create makeshift weaponry from that alone.” The more he spoke of fire and explosives, the brighter her expression got, and when he stopped talking, there was a little, hopeful smile on her lips. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll put up one hell of a fight!” Her eyes locked with his for a few seconds, and then she surprised him beyond his wildest expectations. She practically leapt forward and hugged him, leaving him with a very shocked expression and a Norwegian clinging around his middle. Slowly, he returned the embrace, trying to keep a calm expression. He mostly succeeded, although he suspected that his pupils were slightly altered in size, and, come to think of it, he was most likely blushing the slightest bit.

Sigrun was one big grin, though, and that made his heart melt. He truly disliked seeing his captain, his friend, his… well, yes. Anyway, he disliked seeing her worried and uncertain. He thought it lowered their survival rates drastically when she was not fully alert and vigilant. That was the only reason. Or so he told himself.  
He wouldn’t deny that he enjoyed sitting here with her like this. Her eyes were now closed, and she looked completely calm. Just as she should. Absent-mindedly, he began gently stroking her hair. The she-wolf was soothed.


	7. Hunting time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikkel is waiting and worrying for Sigrun to come back from a hunting trip with Emil.  
> When she finally does, cuteness ensues. And they almost flirt.

She’d been gone since morning.

She’d left with Emil to go hunting, and they had been gone since morning. Of course, it was to be expected that they would take a while, and Mikkel had made them bring a small package of food. Even so, he was worried. He couldn’t help it, knowing his captain and having experienced her reckless enthusiasm first-hand. So many things could go wrong, for every turn they would take, every single step, there was a new danger.

*Snap*

Mikkel looked down at the candle he had been holding in his hands. In his worry, he’d accidentally broken it in half, and the two pieces were now only joined by the wick. Well, at least they did have a considerable surplus of candles, but this was unfortunate. He really should have learned to control his strength by now. It seemed that his sage-like self-control was slipping somewhat when it came to Sigrun. It was truly unfortunate, but the woman had a way of bringing him out of his shell of protocol and formality, and pushing aside his shield of calmness and mild indifference. He once again looked at the candle, drawing his eyes away from the meadow outside the tunnel in which they were parked. He hadn’t been aware that he had been gazing longingly that way, but now he huffed at himself in annoyance – he couldn’t slip like this, it was not the right time. It couldn’t possibly be the right woman either – Sigrun was obstinate, childish and overtly stubborn, endearing, adorable and –

Ah, there he went again.

With a heavy sigh he stuffed the candle into his pocket, knowing that he’d be able to fix it when he lit the fire to cook tonight’s dinner. Hopefully, Sigrun would be back by then. She would be. She had to be.

She better be.

Åh for helvede, he couldn’t stand being worried like this. It made him so nervous that his stomach seemed to tie itself into knots. Sitting down on a piece of rubble from the bridge above the tunnel, he found himself wishing that she’d just come back already. He didn’t even care if she came home empty-handed, as long as she would just. Come. Back.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, his hands placed idly in his lap and his eyes staring straight into thin air, but after some time, he heard distant footsteps and something that sounded like… dragging? Not good. That could be a troll, or, even worse, a giant. They would often drag one or more limbs across the ground, making a sound much akin to the one that was getting closer and closer. Now fully alert and vigilant, Mikkel stood up, sharp eyes darting around for something he could use as a weapon, until – 

“Mikeeeeeeeeeel!”

Oh. It was her.

It was her!

And she had a small deer draped over her shoulders. At least its blood wasn’t smeared on her unifo-

Oh. It was. He would have to wash that off, deer parasites were carriers of some nasty old-world diseases that he did –not- want Sigrun to catch. Nor any of the others, for that matter.

Finally, when Emil emerged several meters behind the red-headed captain, Mikkel realized where the dragging sound came from. He was dragging four rabbits behind him, a piece of cord tied around their hind legs. He looked so very, very tired, and there were twigs and mud in his hair. He wasn’t the one Mikkel lavished with his attention – that honor went to Sigrun.

“You took a while.” He said, keeping up his calm appearance, only smiling very lightly. She shot him a broad grin. “’Course we did! Gotta get you some proper food to work with, yeah?” She looked at him with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “I thought, maybe you could not stew it this time?” The suggestion was delivered with such childish hope, her eyes almost wider than her smile and her head slightly tilted, that he couldn’t deny her request. He sighed and closed his eyes, nodding lightly. The next thing he knew, she’d dropped the deer on the ground and jumped up to wrap her arms around his neck so tightly, he almost couldn’t breathe. The shock made him let out an ‘oof’ in protest, but his arms immediately encircled her and pulled her just a tiny bit closer. This made the Norwegian look up at him with a fiendish smile.

“I take it you missed me?” Her question was almost like a purr. Or, at least it sounded like a purr to him. He could’ve sworn it was a purr.

“And if I told you that I had?” How did he sound so guttural? What was it with the way she looked at him? For a short moment he was confused, but then clarity hit him. Oh. Not now. Not here.

He let her go.

“Well, I would’ve said I’ve missed you too, bear-man. Now cook some dinner.” She was about to dash in through the open door to the living space, but he grasped her collar and pulled her back. When she wriggled to attempt getting out of his grip, he merely held on tighter.

“No you don’t. Decontamination first.” He couldn’t help but smile when she huffed, but her next words had him staring at her wide-eyed and slightly, just slightly, tempted.

“Only if you help me bathe.”


	8. Bath time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikkel convinces Sigrun to take a bath for decontamination purposes, and she refuses unless he helps her. In spite of how this sounds, this is an innocent fic!

Her face was relaxed, her eyes were closed, and she was letting out a slightly purr-y sound as though she was greatly pleased by what he was doing. Which was, as it so happened, scrubbing her back. It wasn’t entirely with his good will that he was doing this, but she had been as adamant as he when it had come to whether she should take a bath or not – he had insisted, she had refused - and the only thing that had been able to convince her that a bath was necessary was him promising to help her. Which, at the moment, meant helping her reach places she couldn’t reach herself – such as her back, and apparently also the nape of her neck, her shoulder blades, and most of the area around her spine. Either she was very inflexible, or she was just taking advantage of having him at her disposal. Most likely, he thought, it was the latter. And he didn’t mind it.

“A little down, I think you missed a spot.” She hummed when he obliged, now scratching rather than rubbing her back. He sighed, although he was smiling. Just a little smile. That she couldn’t see. And he couldn’t see her smile either, which was more obviously pleased.  
“A little to your lef-“

“I think you’re clean now.” He interrupted her. He had a feeling about where this was going, and although he would not be entirely uninterested, he thought that the timing was rather poor. Before Sigrun had a chance to protest, he had emptied a bucketful of cold water over her. She tensed, for a moment paralyzed with a very surprised expression on her face. Then, a short, high-pitched screech made it from her throat. It was actually quite amusing, but he couldn’t savor it, unfortunately. If she was cold for too long, she would catch a cold, or worse, pneumonia. Before the cold got to the marrow of her bones, he had grasped a heavy towel and stood ready behind the wooden bathtub. “Stand up.” He ordered, his voice soft. She did as he said, and, without looking at her, he draped the warm towel around her, letting his hands run from her shoulders and down to her elbows, relishing the involuntary shiver that ran down her spine.

“Get dry and put on some warm clothes now.” He ordered, crossing his arms when she glared at him. He knew she didn’t like getting orders from him, but this was his field, and she knew it.

Half an hour later she was all dressed in civilian clothes, lying on the bunk, flat on her back. Her eyes were closed, but she was not sleeping. Rather, she was extraordinarily bored. Lalli was sleeping, Emil was, well, doing what Emil did. Something with checking explosives. As for Tuuri, she wasn’t actually sure. Reading, maybe. She could hear pages being turned in the room next to this one, the room they used as an entry hall of sorts, with the main entrance. Or maybe that was Mikkel?

With a heavy sigh, Sigrun rolled out of the bunk, elegantly in spite of her carelessness, and walked in the direction of the sound of pages being turned. She stuck her head around the corner, finding herself looking at a curly mass of hair. Well, that was definitely Mikkel. With a half-smile she plumped down next to him, nearly sitting on one of the books before the Dane pulled it away from her rapidly approaching thigh. She took the liberty of leaning closer, taking a glance at the book in his hands.

“You working on… ah…” She eyed the illustration and frowned in confusion. “Your… swing?”

“Golf swing.” He corrected, closing the book with a sigh. “Something like that, yes. I am still waiting for Tuuri to make a transcript of –“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Book talk.” She leaned further to the side, slowly lying down on his lap, thus obstructing his view and forcing him to put the book away. Mikkel sighed, pulling his arms free from beneath her. Sigrun could’ve sworn she saw him roll his eyes, the slightest shadow of a smile on his lips. “You know, books are very illuminating. Many scientific and medicinal methods have only been rediscovered because – “

“Boooriiiiiing!” Sigrun interrupted, raising a hand to his lips, effectively silencing him. She shifted her shoulders a bit to make herself more comfortable, earning herself a yelp from him as her shoulder blade dug into his thigh.

“Sigrun, ow.” His voice was completely calm, just a tiny bit strained. She rearranged herself, relieving him from the pain, but wearing a sly smile on her lips. “Not one for pain, huh?” He glanced down at her, one look telling him all he needed to know about what she meant.

“I will not share that information.” He replied, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed. He looked quite intimidating, looking down at her like that, Sigrun thought. She rather liked it.

“Well, I’ll just think what I think, then.” She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively, causing him to shake his head lightly at her. He didn’t say anything against it, though, so she just sighed contently and closed her eyes, intent on catching a nap. His lap made an unsurprisingly soft pillow.

A few minutes later, one of Mikkel’s arms was draped over her waist, casually as though he just rested it. Sigrun didn’t open her eyes, she had a feeling that he only let down his guard because he thought she was sleeping. She wasn’t blind, she’d seen the glances he threw at her, she’d felt how his touches had grown different, even when it was just their arms brushing against each other when they passed one another. The effect wasn’t lost on her either; those minuscule touches, the looks, the moments when their eyes met, she felt butterflies in her stomach just at the thought. None of them had said anything or really acted on it, but he was her Dane-bear now. At least for the duration of this expedition.

As though he could read her mind, Mikkel gently began stroking her hair. She could imagine a soft, content smile on his lips. There was certainly one on hers.


	9. Shaving and Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Mikkel is interrupted while shaving, and ends up sleeping with Sigrun in his arms.)

*Swish*

*Swish*

The razor moved expertly over Mikkel’s cheek, led by his steady hand. The mirror before him was a metal plate he’d turned around and placed on a shelf at eye-height. It wasn’t much, and his reflection was very distorted, but it didn’t really matter. He had done this so often, he could’ve done it perfectly in the pitch dark. Still, he preferred to be sure that he didn’t accidentally cut himself. Although razor-cuts were generally clean and healed quickly, there was a chance they could get infected. He did not want that.

The razor moved to just beneath his chin as he looked up, carefully removing the two-day-old stubble. He wasn’t actually sure why he was shaving in the first place, on this kind of mission it wasn’t really a necessity. And then again, facial hair was not exactly a boost in personal hygiene, and he was a healer.

Nobody could make him shave his sideburns, though.

Swish went the razor as he drew it across his chin, and swish it went as he drew it across his cheek…

“Hey Mikkel!”

He almost jumped when Sigrun’s voice sounded right behind him, and she so startled him that his hand shook once and he cut himself. The pain stung, and he immediately put down the razor, turning around to give her a very mild glare. “Yes, Sigrun?” He answered, feeling a single drop of blood trickle down his cheek to his chin. Best to let it bleed for a moment to clear the cut of any foreign elements. He noticed her eyes widen slightly at the sight of the blood, more, he thought, because he was hurt than because of the blood.

“Did I do that?” She asked, looking mildly horrified. He shook his head and wiped the razor in a cloth, which he then folded and used to wipe away the trickle of blood. “No. You just gave me a slight shock, that’s all.” He answered, briefly glancing at the cloth to assess the damage. It wasn’t too bad, it would heal within a day or two. At least he’d been laying the finishing touches on his shaving – it wasn’t like he was half done.

Sigrun looked around, searching for something. That made Mikkel frown; the captain was famously erratic in behavior, and sometimes her ideas were equally erratic. Not that they didn’t always work, but there were usually better alternatives. This time, she dug into his medical bag, rummaging through some things that shouldn’t be rummaged through. He had an almost embarrassingly strict order in his medical bag, and as she messed it up, he grimaced slightly. Still, he let her. He could rearrange it afterwards. And it was her; he couldn’t really deny her anything, and he was curious to find out what exactly it was she was planning.

“There!” She triumphantly said to herself, pulling out a pack of band-aids. “Now, sit down.” He obeyed her almost dumbly, sitting down on the nearest stool. In a mere moment, she was over him and he felt a band-aid being carefully placed over the cut. And then another.

And another.

And another.

“Isn’t that quite enough, Sigrun? It’s just a cut.” He said, when a fifth band-aid was placed to secure the previous four. Sigrun stepped back to inspect her handiwork. “Just gotta be sure you’re not going to fall apart or anything. Gotta have my most-best healer in top shape!” She slapped his shoulder hard, but he had this feeling that it hurt her hand more than it hurt him. Besides, coming from Sigrun, a slap was a compliment. A very physical compliment. “Can’t have you slacking off because you hurt yourself!”

With one eyebrow raised, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down on his lap with absurd ease. She gave a light squeal, but it was not in displeasure.

“Who’s slacking off?” He asked, receiving a chuckle in response. He had expected her to jump off his lap almost immediately, but after nearly a minute, she still hadn’t moved. When he shuffled, she grasped his collar and leaned her head against his shoulder, eyes closed with bliss. Mikkel sighed deeply, his eyes slightly narrowed with gentle concern.

“Haven’t slept well lately, I take it?” A tired hum was all the answer he needed. With a sigh, he made a move to scoop her into his arms, but she only hung on to him tighter. He shook his head at her, knowing what she wanted. “I can’t sit here. I’ll move to the bunks, that’s all.” She eased her grip around his neck at his words, and he scooped her up into his arms, standing up. He carried her to the bunks with ease, and then sat down on the one that she usually occupied. He leaned his back against the wall, sitting up straight to ensure that he wouldn’t end up with a sore back, and then put her down on his lap again, his arms encircling her in a gentle, warm grip. It wasn’t long before her eyes had closed and her breathing evened out.

After a few minutes, Mikkel felt his eyelids grow heavy, and his grip around Sigrun eased to the point where his arms fell to her waist. It wasn’t long before he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. He could feel her slow breath against his neck, and his own soon evened out to follow the same pattern.

An hour or so passed before Tuuri peeked inside the bunk room, looking for Mikkel to help her with a difficult passage from the book he’d asked her to make a transcript of. The Finn froze when she saw Mikkel resting against the wall with Sigrun in his arms. For a moment she was afraid that she had interrupted something, but then she noticed that they were both sleeping. She withdrew from the room, closing the door and walked back to the main cabin. She wouldn’t interrupt Mikkel for just that passage – she’d figure it out herself. Those two needed rest. Gods knew they were the ones who worried the most, especially him. And Mikkel was always the first up. Sometimes Tuuri doubted whether he slept at all. Same with Sigrun. So if they could catch up with some of that lost sleep in each other’s arms, well, she wasn’t about to interrupt it.


	10. Making you smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A random scene I wrote. Not the future fic, but that’s coming. When inspiration hits. Hopefully soon.)
> 
> Mikkel gets a little grumpy, and Sigrun will not have it

There had always been a bit of rivalry between their countries, Mikkel recalled as he looked at Emil’s soot-stained uniform jacket. In fact, they’d been at war for longer than they’d been at peace. One could say that there was a certain degree of instinctive disliking between them.  
Mikkel certainly felt that bubble up just now.

For starters, what idiot decided to make their uniforms white? Black would have been a much more practical colour, grey even more so. And secondly, who had decided that it was a good idea to stuff the cattank full of explosives and put a swede in charge of them.  
Swedes.

Of course, it was Swedes.

Not that Mikkel was usually annoyed, in fact he tended to be very, very calm, but there was something about the Swedes that just got to him. He felt like saying ‘the bridge is just a bridge’, and smack one of them, or preferably all, in the head with a club. Not that it would lead him anywhere remotely constructive. And so he resisted temptation again and again.

Emil was testing his patience, though. All due respect for his ‘abilities’ and his work as a cleanser, but his obnoxious behavior and pretentious nature was really starting to bother Mikkel.

Then again, maybe it was just because he was a Swede. Sigrun had some obnoxious tendencies, but he didn’t exactly dislike her. Quite the opposite, actually.

“Hi Dane-Bear!” The sudden intrusion of Sigrun throwing herself into his personal space, nudging his ribs with her elbow, made him jump. He hadn’t heard her, probably because he had been stuck in his own, unusually frustrated, thoughts. The nature of those thoughts unfortunately led him to answer her with a deep rumble. He hadn’t meant to let his annoyance show, but he couldn’t help it. She took a step to the side.

“Woa, woa! I didn’t meant that literally!” She squinted at him, as though she was considering whether to expect him to sprout hair and elongated canines. Then her face lit up in a sly expression. “Oh… Maybe we’re tired of being the team-mommy? That it? Huh? Huh?” She nudged him in the side again, a broad smirk on her face. He sighed and gave a theatrical roll of his eyes, all for her sake. He wasn’t really getting annoyed with his role on the team – although he would perhaps not describe it as ‘team-mommy’ – rather the contrary. He enjoyed watching over the youngsters, and he more than enjoyed watching over Sigrun. She was almost the one who needed the most watching, come to think of it.

“Better than washing pigs though, innit?” She continued. He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders, and her smile faded a little. Typically Sigrun, she leaned against the washtub right in front of him, thus obstructing his view of what he was doing. She squinted at him again. “Okay. What’s the deal?” When he did not respond immediately, she crossed her arms and looked him straight in the eyes. “You gotta tell me, Mikkel! You’re my second-in-command, the team teddy! I can’t have you be all moody on my watch!”

“I’m quite fine, Sigrun, it’s nothing for you to worry about.” It really wasn’t. Nothing more than he’d expected to experience; The usual little pang of homesickness, some sad memories, the occasional dejá-vu. Nothing out of the ordinary. And on this particular day, he just hadn’t gotten enough sleep. That was all.

“Okay, well, I’ll just – “ Sigrun made a move to step forward, but Mikkel’s foot was in the way, so she immediately retraced her steps. Only, she had also forgotten how close the wash bucket was.

There was a splash. And then Sigrun reemerged, very, very wet.

Mikkel sighed at her, but the slightest smile did make its way to his lips. She saw it, and practically gleamed with triumph, splashing around a little for good measure, just to keep that smile there for a little longer. This bout of childishness earned her a chuckle. Then Mikkel heaved her up in his arms, ignoring the fact that she was soaking him as he did so, and began to walk back to the cattank.

“That was silly, Sigrun. Now you’ll have to get dry again.”


	11. To Heal A Broken Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is not exactly within canon, but it's certainly SigrunMikkel. Takes place after the expedition, Mikkel has broken his back (not severely) while saving Sigrun from a collapsing building, and he's now bedridden in hospital. He's being a very grumpy bear, but he can't be angry with his Fox.

There was a soft knock on the door to the tiny hospital room where Mikkel lay. He had only barely turned his head with every intention of answering the knock with a ‘not now please’ when the handle was pushed down and a red-haired head was stuck through the opening.

“Hey Dane-bear.” The tone of those words was soft and hesitant, so unlike Sigrun, and indeed she seemed strangely tentative as she entered the room and closed the door behind herself, as though she knew that she was the only person he would allow near him just then. She was wearing civilian clothes, a blue sweater and leather pants, and only had a light bandage around her head and, he knew, her left shoulder beneath the shirt. He, on the other hand, was in hospital clothes, loose and sanitized to an unnatural white colour, and beneath those layers of fabric his entire back, neck and hip area were tightly and supportingly bandaged.

“How’s the back?” She asked, daring to take a few steps towards his bed. He grumbled something that was neither this nor that language, but which both of them understood. She allowed a little, crooked half-smile to come to her lips. “That bad, huh? Aren’t they giving you any-“

“Yes, they are giving me painkillers, but I regulate the amounts.” He answered before she’d finished the sentence, mostly because he didn’t have much of his famed patience right a that moment. He was indeed regulating the amount of medication he was given, because he had evidently done this sort of rehabilitation program more often than the doctors at the Øresund base. Sigrun sighed and sat down on his bedside, careful not to sit on him. “If I’d known it’d be this bad, I wouldn’t have called for you.” She mumbled, genuine regret showing in her eyes. In spite of pain and frustrations, Mikkel gently reached out and placed his hand over hers.

“Nonsense. You called out because you were in danger, and that building would have collapsed over you before you got out if you hadn’t.” He remembered it clearly, her eyes wide open in panic as she pushed Emil out of the collapsing building first, how she’d shouted his name and he’d managed to hold up a supporting beam long enough for her to get out. He’d broken his back doing it, but the symptoms hadn’t shown in earnest until about a day later when his muscles had been unable to compensate any longer. But even now, lying bedridden for weeks on end, Mikkel didn’t regret it. In fact, the way she had shouted his name before anything else, even before swearing, was payment enough.

“Would you have been sad if it had?” Her words made him look up from his thoughts and he sent her a mildly confused look. Surely she couldn’t seriously be asking what she seemed to be asking?

“If it had what?” He tried to sit up just slightly – it would be more appropriate for a more serious conversation, but when he winced in pain she placed a hand on each of his shoulders and resolutely pushed him back down on the bed. “If the building had fallen on me, silly.” She explained. He looked at her with absolute horror just at the thought. “No. I wouldn’t have been sad.” That wasn’t the word. Far from.  
“I would have been devastated.” He slowly and painstakingly managed to reach up and brush a lock of scarlet hair away from her cheek. She looked almost hurt from seeing him bedridden like this, and being unable to help. He knew what that was like, so he smiled gently at her, his frustration disappearing for a moment. “Don’t worry. I’ll be up and about in a week’s time, and then it’ll be spring and you can return to Dalsnes without worrying about me – “

“Shush.” She placed a finger against his lips, silencing him. “Now I’ve started worrying about you, I’m not about to stop.” Sigrun smiled devilishly, and for a moment Mikkel frowned. What was she planning?

Turned out, she was planning to invade his personal space, again. He didn’t really mind.

With almost overtly gentle movements, she lay down beside him, an arm and a leg draped over him to avoid falling off the narrow bed. They sighed in unison when she’d found a position which was comfortable for them both.

“My bear…” She mumbled, nuzzling her cheek against his neck.

“My fox.” He replied, placing a gentle kiss upon her brow.


End file.
